LANGJOKULL 2018

Unsupported winter traverse of Iceland’s 2nd largest icecap

THE PLAN

It all started with the innocent “Let’s join Iva’s trip to Iceland and watch the Northern Lights!” and then developed in our typical get-into-trouble way…

Looking at the map, we poked a finger at the Langjokull icecap – Iceland’s second largest and technically easy to cross. We chose a 20-day period between mid-January and mid-February 2018 (’cause it was going to be cheaper then), christened the expedition a “training” one and proceeded with planning it.

To make things as cheap as possible, we decided that – snow permitting – we would man-haul to the icecap, all the way from Reykjavik, cross Langjokull along its length and back, and then man-haul back all the way to Reykjavik. Give or take, it was going to be a 300-km “little trek” across Iceland’s subarctic wasteland, notorious for weather, as horrible as the Patagonian storms….

Time and preparations steadily flew by and before we knew it, it was time to leave for the ice…

THE TEAM

BRANISLAV BRANKOV

A “young explorer” and main expedition man-hauling idiot.

IVA RUSEVA

Not a young explorer. Cooks and handles logistics.

KIRIL TRIFONOV

Disgracefully excommunicated from the “young explorers guild”. Kayak instructor. Will be riding on the sleds.

VIHREN

Young rascal. Responsible for bringing down the house while we’re gone.

THE EXPEDITION

Before arriving in Iceland, our friend Hilmar – an experienced local mountain rescuer with over 30 years of experience – warned us:
“The end of January is the worst possible choice of time. The weather is crazy and winds go upwards of 180km/h. What you’re trying to do is comparable to driving at 150kph on a winding icy road.”

We’ve had our fair share of savage winds and aren’t easily scared, but we don’t take them lightly either. Our friend was trying to provide us a with a realistic, sobering way to look at our situation. He wasn’t trying to stop us, but was giving us a chance to reassess things and be able to make reasonable decisions.

We hadn’t yet even landed in Reykjavik and everything about the expedition was going down the drain. Our third team member – Kiril – dropped out on his own at the last minute, the weather and mountains seemed to be against, the locals were reminding us they had rescued nine out of ten foreign expedtitions the year before, and snow cover near the capital was virtually non-existent. We hadn’t even started and the expedition’s success was already under serious threat.

The only thing going according to plan were our dog’s attempts to bring down the house…

Hilmar kindly offered to drive us north until we reach good snow conditions. We were this decreasing the overall distance we would cover, but were increasing the chances of successfully crossing Langjokull along its length. On the morning of the third day after touching down, thanks to our friend, we were in Thingvellir national park, barely 40km from our ice cap and at the gates of an exciting frozen world.

As we skied through the expanse of frozen valleys, the gullies and culoirs of towering mountains and craggy peaks were playing with our imagination. Tempting ridges were snaking their way to the skies in the distance and were inviting us with a promise of biting winds and breathtaking panoramic views.

We were pulling our sleds through the valleys of the present, but our souls were flying light and free above the slopes and ridges of future dreams – not yet fulfilled but already burning in the flames of their wild birth…

Day two greeted us with the typical Icelandic winter storm. Fighting strong winds, deep visibility and moving solely by dead reckoning we managed to shelter of the Svalariki hut. That, however, came at a considerable cost.

With less than a hundred meters left to the cabin, a powerful wind gust smashed Iva into the ice and caused injuries to her knee and lower back.

We were faced with a lot of doubt and a tough decision.

Should we wait out the storms and injury in the safety of the cabin?
Would a favorable weather window ever appear?

Should we let the expedition fail or should I move forward alone and try to cross the icecap, taking some considerable risks in the process?

As far as I was concerned, the decision had already been made. At this point in my life I was completely shattered emotionally. I did realize how foolish my thoughts were, but I was one step away from not caring whether I’d make it or not. I needed this trip to fight my own demons but I was well aware of the risks, stemming from my own stubbornness – both for myself and my family and close ones. Experience dictated that I should retreat. The soul, however, wanted to prove that I could still – in full force – wage the war we all call life.

The following days I spent in the company of stormy winds and a complete lack of visibility.
In this realm of the endless white, completely devoid of colors, the earth, horizon and sky unite into an ominous symbiosis and you lose your connection with the real world.
Your brain keeps insisting that you’re moving in circles, despite the unshakable certainty of your compass’ magnetic needle pointing the right way.
Whatever’s left of instincts for survival keeps shouting and pulling at you to just STOP, to get away…to just leave this frozen hell behind.

Every fiber of your body rises against this foolish desire of your ego and the white abyss around you turns into a form of purgatory.

“Flying” solely on instruments and incapable of distinguishing even a slight line on the horizon, you tend to fall into some peculiar states of the mind.
Deprived of all external stimuli, your gaze turns inwards, towards your soul, and dives into depths of ever growing darkness.
You sway between complete acceptance of yourself in one moment, and absolute self-hatred and being judgmental of your every minuscule flaw, in the next. Your inner compass is messed up so badly, that insanity is only one very…very little step away.

And this is exactly where the key lays hidden. That little step is entirely your own choice and realizing it gives the soul the opportunity to build a new and better person.

Soon enough, your senses adapt. You begin to hear every snowflake, gently dropping on your clothes, your face feels every subtle change in the biting wind’s direction and your feet become capable of sensing even the slightest differences in the windblown patterns of the snow beneath. A real blind-man, stepping through the ice, you learn the discipline, patience and will, necessary to survive this harsh world, deprived of the visible spectrum. Concentrating all the willpower you can muster in one single microscopic point in time and space, you simply make one more step further…

Inside the eye of the storm – the one without and the one within – I covered 134km traversing Langjokull twice along its length and I found refuge from the hurricane winds in the subarctic wasteland, surrounding the glacier.

Upon coming back from Iceland I had more questions than answers. But this whole experience once again reminded me that when the whole world around you is crashing down, when Nature with all its might is pushing you in the dirt, you have the one obligation – for your own sake – take the hits, swallow the pain, stop whining and stand the fuck back up!
It is exactly this simple.

After this expedition I was completely sure of only one thing – I was going to come back to Iceland very soon!

DAY BY DAY MOVEMENT

DAY 1: Thingvellir National Park – Camp 1: N64.41187° W20.91797°	DAY 6: Successful crossing of Langjokull (SW – NE). N64.90193° W19.80786°	DAY 12: Ski to Gatfell hut: N64.36021° W20.92403°
DAY 2: Camp 1 to Svalariki hut. Position: N64.46948° W20.75148°	DAY 7: Return to middle parts of Langjokull. Camp 4: N64.7143° W20.07646°	DAY 13 and 14: Waiting out storms
DAY 3: Waiting out a storm at Svalariki	DAY 8: Evacuation from Langjokull. Camp position: N64.47232° W20.39733°	DAY 15: Ski to Thingvellir National Park. Position of last Camp: N64.29487° W21.05985°
DAY 4: Svalariki to Langjokull Camp 1. N64.5758° W20.55064°	DAY 9: Return to Svalariki.
DAY 5: Langjokull – Camp 1 to Camp 2. N64.67838° W20.21073°	DAY 10 and 11: Waiting out storms.